"You've no special information?" she asked, laughing. "It would make me so important!"
"Oh, you're important enough already—after this morning. And I know nothing—absolutely nothing."
"You mean to say Miss Driver doesn't tell you——?"
"Actually she does not—and I'm not sure I should know if she did."
"Of course I'm only chaffing. But it would be rather—ideal."
"H'm. Forty-three may not be senile, but would you call it ideal? For a romance?"
"Who's talking of romances? I'm on the question of marriage, Mr. Austin."
"But if one can afford a romance? What's the use of being rich?"
"No, no, it's the poor people who can go in for romance. They've nothing to lose! Divide nothing a year between two—or, presently, four—and still it's no less."
"But the rich have nothing to gain—except romance."